


Indefinite

by LoveRoqs



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, Near Future, Post-War, Russian Empire, bonnie and clyde au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveRoqs/pseuds/LoveRoqs
Summary: In which, Beatrice Firkus died when her father was murdered by a Russian soldier right in front of their house. Trixie Mattel, age 26, grew up brilliantly in a post-war America that is currently ruled by Russians, she's not just a girl anymore, she's a woman with a mission of revenge, and she's got the best Underground Matriarchy on her side.Regarding her husband-to-be, she thought he was just crazy. But apparently he's smart too.Mail-order Bride, Bonnie and Clyde, Futuristic Elements AU





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just me, fulfilling my dreams of writing Brian living in a hillside manor, with his pet bear, his giant library, his collection of unusable vintage carriages, and his horses. Featuring a stable-hand!Max and Chef!Ginger.
> 
> Oh, also, since this is Russian AU, Brian McCook is Baran Zamolodchikova, but in dialogue people call him 'Brian'.
> 
> There's a 12/13 years of age difference but that's what the story needs in order for this to work. If that's not your cup of tea, you can leave.

 

_beep..._

_beep..._

_beep..._

A grunt. A groan.

The room of black and red is dark, with curtains of thick black velvet preventing the sun from shining into the room. The man sleeping in the King-sized bed tosses and turns, opens his eyes in a squint, his phone vibrating tirelessly next to his pillow.

'мама' the caller ID read. The man groans again, knowing he has no choice but to pick it up.

"what is it m-

"Happy Berthday Son!" his father's heavy accent enters his ears

"ugh... okay? Thanks. Thank you..."

"Brian!" his mother scolds, "we have a gift for you, she should arrive there today, maybe this afternoon... we don't know yet... but we're sure you'll love her..." Brian raises an eyebrow at the pronoun 'she' and 'her'.

"Oh! and party this Saturday, Svet" his father says

"Yes, there's a dinner party we're holding in honor of your Grandfather's 50th year in the military... we know you would rather... celebrate your birthday alone, but you can make it down this Saturday, right?"

"Yeah mom... I guess..."

"Great!" His father's voice was booming.

"Enjoy today, Brian... Happy 39th Birthday, we love you..."

When the dial tone beeps again, signalling the end of the call, Baran Zamolodchikova burrows his face into his beloved pillow. At least they learned not to bother with Birthday Parties anymore. He loved them, they were great parents, but fifteen years of service as a war soldier destroyed him; loud noises made him cringe, people made him nervous, he doesn't go anywhere without a pocket knife- and it's been three years since the war ended.

* * *

Lunch time was fairly awkward.

"Happy Birthday sir." The stable-hand says, looking warily at the bear eating behind Baran.

"It's Brian, Max. You know this..." Baran addresses the woman sitting to his left. "Thanks for cooking a feast, Ginger... this was really unnecessary. But I'm glad you were all able to dine with me this afternoon."

The long dining table only had six occupants; Baran, Max, Ginger, and three maids that wore slacks and long sleeves with their hairs in buns making them all look even more the same to Baran's eyes.

"Well, you know, I forgot the Kitchen's AI got an upgrade, the birthday setting wasn't manually edited yet. And so are the other AI's of the house, Brian." Ginger says

"I should get on that, huh..."

"Oh, but the cleaning AI's have been of great help, sir." one of the maids says

"Duly noted-

The sound of the doorbell ringing cuts off whoever was planning to speak next.

"are we expecting company?" Max asks

"not that I- oh, my parent's gift... I guess it's arrived... you can all finish, no need to wait for me to come back."

* * *

A woman with platinum blonde curls stares at him through chocolate brown eyes, she was wearing a pink fur coat, and a pink fur beanie, she had about six or seven suitcases behind her. "Uhm... who...?"

"Hi! I'm Trixie Mattel, and I'm your wife-to-be, a-k-a your American mail-order bride."

Baran swallows audibly.  _'what the fuck, Ma?'_


	2. Week 1

 

 

 

"You're my h-what? I'm sor-

"Svetlana didn't tell you? She ordered me weeks ago... Oh, Jeeves, help me out here." The girl, Trixie, gives him a small smile before entering his abode without invitation.

"Jeeves?"

On cue, a familiar driver drops off another suitcase before taking another and dragging them into the house. "Good afternoon, Sir. I was just told by Sir Yaremka to drop her off... I, I ah, don't know anything else, my apologies."

"Uhm...okay-

"Here. You probably wanna call your mom." Trixie says, offering him a pink phone.

Baran grabs her by the wrist; "we'll be at the parlor"

"Hey, ow!"

* * *

_"Are you sure? If you take this assignment there's no going back here, Trix." An older woman asks_

_"I'm sure-_

_"You're gonna be on your own, at least until you can get to Moscow or Samara and meet up with our insiders there. Are you really sure?"_

_"Bianca. Have some faith in me. Come on, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that bombed a whole base and made them all think it's from the terrorists. Not that I didn't get help, but still-_

_"I worry about you, kid. You're smart, patient, and always all-in. If-_

_"When" she corrects the older woman_

_"When you take this assignment... Beatrice... it's just to play housewife until we decide otherwise. There's files already on who you can trust, who you can ask for money, guns, or jobs; but playing housewife is still important. It's the second most important job for you to do."_

_"I know, I'm ready."_

_Bianca sighs. "Don't die."_

_"You can't kill evil that easy." Trixie says, quoting another agent._

_"Well that's what I'm worried about, bitch." Bianca mutters_

* * *

That was the last time she was in the  _'Report Room'_ , and the first time she was determined to be more than successful in a mission in a long time.

It's only been a week since she arrived in Mother Russia. She knows why she wants this job, it's not because she wants to be a spy, it's because the Zamolodchikovas are a military family.

Baran Zamolodchikova is the youngest of them, excluding his extended relatives, that lived through the war. She knows the family is with good standing in relation to the Vasilievs family, and if the rumors are true; if Russia is truly going to become an established hierarchy once more, well, she's in a really good position, then.

Her thoughts are interrupted when the other occupant of the parlor made a really frustrated sound, accompanied by a string of choice Russian words.

"So, she told you that you can't send me back, right? It's kind of a three-month no-return policy?"

"Yeah, I'm aware. Trixie, is it?"

Trixie nods, smiling.

"Have you had lunch? Let's have lunch-

"Wait, Wait! I have a gift for you." She rummages through her purse quickly, then finds the small package. "Happy Birthday"

Baran grits his teeth; "thanks"

* * *

When Baran returns to the dining table, the maids are gone and so is Max. The bear was still unfinished;

"Oh my God, you have a bear cub!" Trixie squeals, kneeling down the dining room floor. Ginger watches her curiously.

"Who is this?" Ginger asks

"The wife-to-be, apparently. She came through my parents' mail order. God, they always do this! Заебись! (Fucking Great!)" Baran mutters

"Oh... An American bride. I've heard of those, I have a neighbor who has one. Is sh-

"Hey, hi. I can hear you. I'm not a slut, I just joined the agency because I got tired of taking care of my dead-beat stepfather. I'm not a gold digger either- I didn't know he was gonna be rich, all I know about him is his mother's email and that's it... My name is Trixie, by the way." Trixie says, petting the bear's snout. The bear is currently looking at her curiously.

"Hold old are you again?" Ginger asks

"I'm twenty-six. How old is your bear? Does it have a name?" Trixie asks, addressing Baran

"she's four, her name's Baby"

"Is she a honey bear like your mom has?"

"No... she's just a brown bear."

"I think she meant the food." Ginger says

"She eats berries. And cake, roasted chicken, tuna salad, ...Ginger?"

"Oh, actually, I think I'm gonna go. Enjoy your Birthday lunch, Brian. Trixie." Ginger bids them adieu. It wasn't long before one of the maids enters to present a clean set of plate and utensils for Trixie.

"I'm sorry I barged in during lunch." Trixie says sheepishly.

* * *

"You're aware that I'm thirteen years older than you, right?"

"Twelve actually. I'm gonna turn twenty-seven soon."

Baran hums.

"So...?"

"So what?"

"Am I gonna be seeing your bed anytime soon? You didn't even ask me if I wanted to take my coat off, and you didn't open your present yet. What's going on up there?" Trixie taps the side of her forehead.

Baran wants to roll his eyes; "I. Am going to establish some ground rules here, since you'll apparently be living here for three months?"

"I wouldn't say just three months, I'd say I'm wife material, but okay. Lay it on me, Baran." Trixie smiles

"It's Brian. It's only Baran or Sir Zamolodchikova for formalities, not Mister because I'm not the head of the family, that'll be my Grandfather. First, you're not sleeping in my bed. You're staying in the guest room. Second, you can have breakfast or lunch or dinner anytime you like. Third, you can leave anytime you like, with the horses or with the cars, I don't care. So long as you find a way to return the horse or the car, you're good to go. I don't need telling where you're going, but please stay out of my bedroom and my office. There's a library with an AI that can help you, and another AI to make sure you don't freeze or drown in the pool. Do you need me to show you to your room?"

"Ugh, yeah duh! What about a tour of the house?"

Brian sighs.

* * *

In the first two whole days, Trixie was very tempted to leave and grab a flight to Moscow or Samara, but then that's basically jeopardizing her assignment...

_'Wedding first, Trixie, make him want you so bad enough to put a ring on it. He's always in his room, or in his office, what does he even do there?'_

Then Trixie realized that he never said that she wasn't allowed to bathe in his bathroom. His bathroom was not in the Guests' wing, it was in his suite. She's seen the suite through the gardens once, and she figured his bathroom, bedroom, and office had a common room, some sort of receiving room that was also connected to the hallway.

* * *

Baran enters his bathroom, he undoes his robe, hangs it in the hook, and enters the glass shower. When he turns the dial, hot water makes mist surround the glass shower immediately, the hot water that hits his back felt good, then he turns, and that's when he sees her.

The curtain of the bathtub wasn't covering the other end, her head and breasts were exposed to him. Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping, and her cheeks reddening.

"Um... hi?"

Baran froze, on one hand he could assume that the mist is covering his genitalia, on the other hand, he could try to go out of the shower and get his robe-

"Uhm, this is okay, right? Cuz I took a shower last night, so the AI didn't get to clean it on schedule, it's cleaning it right now." Trixie tells him truthfully

"What? What is- How is this okay?-

"You didn't say I wasn't allowed to use your bathroom so... And this way, we can have lunch together, isn't that great? What're you doing later, can you teach me how to ride a horse?"

"No. I have work to do, have Max teach you."

"Brian, come on, please? We barely spend any time together. I only know that you like Ginger's crepes, and the name of your horse. Don't you wanna get to know me?"

Baran sighs; "We can have lunch together, and that's it. I have work to do, Trixie."

* * *

Apparently, she assumes he meant lunch together everyday. And by the third day, she managed to convince Ginger, the three maids, and even Max to have lunch with them despite the bear eating behind him- there wasn't even a special occasion-

_'Wait, she did say that her birthday would be coming up soon...is it today?'_

"Ugh... so, you never did tell me when your birthday was...?"

It was painfully obvious that his statement had nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the previous conversation that was going on. Trixie smiles at him, the rest looks at him like he just entered reality. Which is true.

"It's on August 23rd"

Baran hums. Ginger speaks up; "Trixie's just telling us about how Max saved her today. She fell."

"I'm sorry, it's just that... my horse-riding skills doesn't... translate well onto my teaching skills." Max confesses

Trixie taps Max's hand below the table but visible to Baran since she's on his right side. "It's okay, Max. I wasn't hurt. And we can try again tomorrow. I think, for this afternoon, I'm just gonna go to the library."

* * *

Usually he can focus on his work better- but really, who is he kidding?

He only ever bedded one woman, a past long-term girlfriend, Tatianna. Tatianna was nowhere near alike Trixie; neither silhouette nor aesthetic.

The past four days have been hell, but he doesn't dare jerk off to thoughts of the blonde, he couldn't because he still doesn't trust her. Not like Ginger with his food, or Max with his horses, or the other three maids with cleaning his house. He had CCTV's, but he didn't have any that are watching the Guests' wing, all he can rely on are the reports of his AI.

That's why when the AI confirmed that Trixie isn't anywhere in the Guests' wing, Baran can be found thirty minutes after lunch, going from his office to the library as well.

* * *

"Hey, Brian, Hi! What're you up to?" Trixie asks, approaching him immediately. Brian notices that she's skipping.

"Just looking for something."

"Does it have a name? Or do you mean me?"

"Uh, no, uh, horseback riding, are you still offeri- I mean, do you still want me to teach you?"

"That depends, are you gonna catch me just in time when I fall?"

"I- ...I guess"

"That's good. Cuz I think your horse hates me-

"You've been riding my horse?"

"Yeah, I asked Ginger what your horse's name was, then I told Max you said I can use _a_ horse, you didn't say which horse though. So I asked him for Timothy."

"You're lucky he didn't throw you forwards." Baran states

"What time are you gonna teach me? I'm not sure if you can wake up that early..." Trixie asks cheekily.

"You know what, Trixie? I'm gonna teach you right now."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Right now."

* * *

When they reached the other side of the field successfully, without falls and with a calmer horse than they've started with, Brian decides to sit down under the tree. He was secretly having a small panic attack over how the sun was already setting, and he lost track of time, and he wasted a whole day's worth of work, and-

"Hey, you look really good in jeans. Did you know?" Trixie's voice cuts off his thoughts, his eyes opens to look at where she is.

Trixie was watching his horse drink water, then ties his horse to the watering trough after.

"Does Max bathe your bear?" Trixie asks

"No, I do that at night, every Sundays after Church service. She can't get out of the gate, and the fields are clean, she doesn't climb stairs so she's usually so easy to find. She doesn't even go anywhere near the brick walls."

"Oh, you go to church?"

"Not tradition. But when asked, I have to. I went to church the Sunday before my birthday..."

Trixie hums. "Do you sleep with your bear?"

"...sometimes..."

"That's cute, can I bathe your bear too? Do you think I can get her to sleep on my bed?" Trixie asks

Brian shrugs; "I'll ask her."

"...Hey Brian, you do remember that you came to the library and didn't get a book, right?" Trixie asks, when he didn't respond, she continues; "that's okay, I went there cuz I hoped you would"

She lays down next to him, putting her left hand over his right one, her eyes were on the sunset forming in the sky.

* * *

Baran is ready to go to sleep that night, then he remembers something, the package she gave him. It's probably still in his kitchen's metallic trash bin, three feet deep under the ground. Can you blame him if he thought it was a bomb?

Irritated, he gets up and goes there wearing only his night robe, and his slippers, his pocket knife safely in his robe pocket.

A few minutes later, in the confines of his bed, he lays down, smiling to himself. It was a pink necktie, a pink handkerchief, and a pink pair of socks. She wasn't even his wife yet, but she was already trying to dress him in what he will now identify as her color.

* * *

The next day, Baran wakes up with a knock on the door;

"Sir, Madame Svetlana is on hold. She's calling to ask if you'll be arriving in horse or by car?" calls a voice he remembers belonging to one of his maids

Baran sits up. "By car. And tell her I'm bringing Trixie. Can you tell Trixie too?"

"Yes sir. Shall you be having Breakfast in bed right now, then?"

Baran closed his eyes "No. What time is it? My mom called for Grandfather's dinner party right?"

"It's 10 am sir, yes sir, she did."

"I'll have brunch in the dining hall, thanks."


	3. Dinner Party (i)

Trixie checks herself in the full-length mirror once more.

For the dinner party tonight, she's wearing a pink dress that has a V see-through at the back all the way to her hips. The dress is sleeved to her wrists, but the length of the dress ends just above her knees. Her white leather boots are ankle length, matching her white leather purse that's hanging diagonally on gold chains from her shoulders.

She isn't wearing a bra, her hair is the only other thing covering her nipples aside from her dress, but at least she's wearing underwear.

As she walks down to the foyer, she sees Baran waiting, Trixie spots the pink handkerchief on his pocket immediately; It makes her smirk a hot second before she turns it into a small innocent smile. He's wearing the full on regalia of a Russian Soldier's formal wear, except instead of the Russian insignia, in its place is the Zamolodchikova family crest.

"...That is not Russian formal wear..."

Trixie frowns; "What do you mean? ...Your mother gave me most of my clothes, is this inappropriate? Should I change?"

"It's a military event, not an ordinary dinner party. Shit, I should've asked someone to check on you."

"Okay, come up to my room then, pick something for me-

"No time! Ну нахер (Well Fuck)… Just wear this. We have to go, or I will be late." Baran takes off his coat, opens it for Trixie to put her arms through. Trixie doesn't miss his tone when he says  _"I will be late"_.

Instantly, his personal bubble is invaded by the sweet scent of something citrus.

"Thank y-

"let's go"

* * *

Trixie remembers why Baran is adamant to leave early, it's because of the fact that his manor is built on the hillside.

"I just hope my mother doesn't spread rumors of engagement, and my father didn't forget to shave."

Trixie chuckles. "It'll be fine, they probably want this party to be a success just as much as you do."

"How fluent are you in Russian?"

"Fluent enough, I lived with your parents for a few days, didn't I? Although, I gotta ask, is your father even speaking Russian or is English the only language I should speak with him?"

Baran chuckles deeply, a genuine sound that surprised even himself. "...My father is a general that spent more than five years in Scotland trying to form plans and alliances..."

"so that's why... What about your brother? I've never seen him before, but there's obviously a lot of pictures of you two in the lounge."

"he died" Baran answers

Trixie tries to hide the frustration in her face, she manages but she wasn't able to not form fists. The air is suddenly much colder.

"My condolences, how did he die?" Trixie asks

Baran frowns; "It was his last duty, a public event to signify that Korea and Russia are allies. He was shot near the end of the ceremony. That's why Korea isn't South or North Korea anymore, it's Russian Property. Alexander Vasiliev renamed Korea capital as Barislav, but not enough for my father. You've met him, my father?"

Trixie nods.

"Have you met Grandfather, Ioann Zamolodchikova?"

Trixie shakes her head; "We've eaten in the same table twice before he had to fly out. Other times, he was just served in his office."

"That sounds like him, Grandfather is a sort of younger brother to Vasiliev... To apeace the family, Father is declared a feudal lord of the Korean capital, Barislav. And Korea as a whole is a gift to China, with three other Russian Feudal lords among the Chinese Feudal lords; Alexander Vasiliev, his oldest son- Evgeni, and my grandfather- Ioann..."

"Oh... don't you think China's getting too much power?"

"No, I don't. It's best not to waste time thinking such things when I have to attend to work."

"...which is?"

Trixie doesn't get an answer because the car stops and Max pulls down the divider; "we've arrived, sir"

* * *

"Привет, Слава Богу, вы оба смогли это сделать! (Welcome, Thank goodness you two were able to arrive!) ...Trixie, how has he been treating you?" Svetlana wore a black and blue gown that hung tight and loose in all the correct places.

"Uh, очень любезно (very kindly), Svetlana..." Trixie responds

“Понимаете, разве он не замечательный? (See, isn't he wonderful?)” Svetlana asks

Trixie cringes internally at the quick slew of foreign words.

“мама, ты что-то забыл? мы должны поговорить. (Mother, did you forget something? We need to talk.)” Baran asks with a frown.

"Later, милая моя (my darling). Why don't you introduce Trixie over there, with your friends? Go on, go, shoo."

Svetlana immediately began to attend to someone else, it seems like she never runs out of people to talk to.

Baran sighs; "О Боже (Oh God), she's already told her friends and mine that I'm engaged."

"Well, we technically are, cuz, you know, after the three month policy, all you have to do is sign some perfectly legal documents and, boom, instant wife..."

"instant wife? You two aren't planning to elope, are you?" a man asks

Trixie immediately recognizes him as one of the soldiers in-league with Baran. She's correct when Baran guides her to the man's table.

"No, Demyan, please shut up-

"Yes! That is me, the wonderful Demyan. The youngest of the Vasilievs' brothers three. And you, lovely?"

"Trixie Mattel"

Demyan was quick to kiss the top of Trixie's hand. Baran rolls his eyes, he offers Trixie a seat as he looks at Demyan and says; "What made you show u-

"Have you both eaten? Obviously not, you've just arrived! Great, na? come with me Brian. Trixie, please allow me to serve you your meal for the night."

* * *

Trixie watches the two men share whispers in the buffet line. Another man approaches the table;

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour Monsieur."

"You are... Beatrice?"

Her eyes widen, slowly she looks at the man's face, but she doesn't recognize him.

"I am not a threat, please be calmed..."

* * *

-vous laisser tomber."

Baran is just a little bit suspicious to find the strange man hurrying to leave, Demyan claps him on the back, Baran asks;

"who's he?"

Demyan hums; "who is w-

"is all of that mine? What, were you too busy talking, you forgot that the plate isn't actually for you?" Trixie interrupts

"Oh, it was all Brian's fault, lovely. Please, forgive me?"

Baran rolls his eyes, distracted; his focus is now on trying to track the French man, annoyed that he didn't catch the face.

* * *

Later into the night, every table is given rum, whiskey, and vodka. Ioann stands up on the makeshift stage, a wooden platform, in front of him is a mic setup, complete with a wooden podium. Embedded in the curtain behind him is the Russian insignia and the Zamolodchikova family crest. Trixie wanted to strangle them, every single one of these privileged people, until they were all a bloody-

_Applause._

“Кукла, возможно, у меня есть первый танец? (Doll, may I be your first dance?)” Yaremka asks upon approach

Trixie looks to a still distracted Baran that says; “Да, начинай (yes, go ahead)”

"почему бы вам не попросить свою невестку танцевать, Brian? (why don't you go ask your sister-in-law to dance, Brian?)" Yaremka suggests

"In-law?"

"Да, Barislav was married before he died. That girl, оранжевый (orange one), gave me two grandchildren. Both look too much like Barislav, it's best she's away..."

Trixie looks around while she and Yaremka dances. Svetlana is the blonde one, Yaremka is dark-haired. Albeit bald, it was obvious Baran inherited Svetlana's blonde hair, and his father's hard jaw; Trixie was sure, if Baran ever ditches the stubble and grew out his hair, he would look like a blonde Yaremka. Barislav is a male Svetlana, but with Yaremka's dark hair. Barislav's girls all sported dark hair, despite their mother being a ginger.

"So you're saying that she doesn't even live near here?" Trixie asks

"No, left to teach her children the Jewish ways. She came from very traditional family, very old, very proper."

* * *

"My favorite witch came out to play?" Baran whispers

The woman is wearing a glittering short-sleeved, off-white, trumpet-style gown; with the Russian signature, a lumpy round train. Her long ginger hair is in an intricate victorian style up-do, matching both her daughters that are still eating desserts.

"Brian! You startled me-

Baran cuts her off, grinning as he asks; "How's life in Ireland?"

"I'm living like royalty, the girls are thriving, It's quiet, I... I found someone..."

"Oh! Is that true?"

"H-he doesn't really know it yet... Enough about my boring life, what's this I heard about a wife-

"Let me stop you right there, Jinkx... Come on, we'll talk in the dance floor. Make them all think why the fuck they didn't wed us the moment Barislav cashed his chips."

"Brian!" Jinkx slaps his arm

* * *

After a little bit more of socializing, most of the guests began to leave; a few excuses that their wives' feet are hurting, a few excuses that their children were getting tired, a few excuses that imply work tomorrow. Baran wishes he could say the same, but Trixie isn't wearing heels, he doesn't have children, and he's also not a politician to be working on a Sunday.

"Mama, am I allowed to leave now?"

"Well, at least say goodbye to your grandfather first. Have you even visited her yet?" Svetlana asks

"No, Alright, I'll get to it..."

Across the room, Demyan is talking off Trixie's ears, something about clothing designers; Trixie isn't listening, she's watching Baran sneak off after he finished talking with Yaremka and Ioann.

-пожалуйста скажи да? (please say yes?)"

"Ugh, yeah, sure. Absolutely, Uhm, excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom." Trixie goes before Demyan gets the chance to speak.

The Zamolodchikova Manor is basically an entire valley; Fortunately for Trixie, she's good with directions.

From the indoor balcony she spots Baran below, heading towards the gardens, the long way to the garden comes to mind but instead she looks down, then looks around. She knows the CCTV's are only watching the party and not the balcony.

She breathes in, takes a few steps back, then vaults herself from the marble railings, successfully doing a front handspring, landing hard into the stone pathway in a squatting position.

She breathes in relief when her purse didn't hit anything thanks to Baran's coat.

Trixie continues to follow him, up till she sees him going through the garden, and into a gate hidden by hedges.

It was a simple gate, no locks, no scanners, no detectors- at least from what she can see. Trixie's gut tells her it's still forbidden to go there, dutifully there must be a reason why Svetlana never elaborated on the gardens when she gave Trixie the two-day tour.

* * *

It was a cemetery. A family cemetery, no less. In the middle of the small flat field is a roof with four posts and no walls. Trixie assumes that's where the mourning happens due to the burial vaults and burial liners, she wouldn't even be surprised if they had their own cremation ovens, the roof is obviously made of concrete or clay because the last name  _'Zamolodchikova'_  is embossed into it.

Trixie hides behind two stacked coffins, watches Baran kneel down and let go of a single lilac flower. It couldn't have been cheap to scientifically modify and grow them, this made Trixie really curious on whose name is written on it.

After a few more minutes, Trixie sees Baran wipe his watering eyes with the pink handkerchief. The scene made Trixie feel something deep inside her chest, it isn't quite pity, but more like empathy- she knows what it's like to lose a loved one.

Seconds later, Baran leaves, Trixie waits longer just to make sure he's really gone before she goes to see the grave for herself.

**_'Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova'_ **

**_2019 - 2033_ **

**_The pride and joy of our family._ **

Baffled, Trixie steps back.  _'He... He has a sister?'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Dinner Party (ii) we'll see what Demyan and Baran talked about, who that French man is and how he knows about Trixie's real name, and we'll also know what Demyan's blabbing about.
> 
> Obviously, Brian doesn't want to be all inclusive and stuff, but Mama Svet obviously adores Trixie. Wonder why that is?


	4. Chapter 4

Hi

Hello, yes, this is NOT AN UPDATE.

I would just like to announce an indefinite hiatus, no pun intended.

I have the next chapter almost done for this fic - but I'm taking a break from this fandom for a while, so I don't think I'll be posting it soon. I hope y'all understand, and I'm really sorry.

It's not personal, it's drag.

Anyways, the reason is actually completely personal. I'm finding myself:

New apartment, new roommates, I have a new dog, I'm trying to find my footing in a workplace that is just a bit sexist, my sister left for the homeland because she's not just ill anymore.

I've already disappointed the lot of you when I promised to update my other fic, the soulmate AU fic - and failed, because obviously I haven't looked at it, not even once, for a while now.

This hiatus is not permanent.

I'm gonna miss spreading the love and commenting on all you brilliant writers' works.

Shoutout to my wifi-wife, GoodShipsDontSink (please keep writing even though I wont be here to read your new updates anymore)

Another writer is someone I deeply admire, laurrayn, she wrote the fic 'Legend of Lin' an Avatar LOK fic about Tenzin and Lin getting together. Oh my God, it is the best read. That is my standard chapter length, what I aspire to be able to write someday.

I'm a very private person, obviously, but I really love this fandom. Not goodbye, but this is a see you when I see you.

Thanks for all the support, I love all of you amazing writers, and all of you amazing readers!


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